Lecherous Broads For Clay Aiken!
Lecherous Broads for Clay Aiken!


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2003-09-23
11:43 p.m.

MAP BEVR

TENDER AND PRECIOUS MOMENTS

Into the Eye of the Storm

There's just no good way to tell someone that "Oh, by the way, this weekend I'm traveling hundreds of miles into the path of a major hurricane to hook up with some people I met over the Internet so we can drive a couple of hundred more miles to the Miss America Pageant (Final Night and Crowning) because Clay Aiken is going to sing one song."

There's just no good way. So, not surprisingly, our loved ones ~ friends, parents, siblings, cousins ~ were a bit concerned for our safety and our sanity as we each embarked on this adventure. And their anxiety was contagious. Although at the time it felt perfectly natural to get on Ticketmaster and order 5 tickets to the Miss America Pageant (Final Night and Crowning), as the actual date drew near, we all began to worry a little.

Excitement at meeting fellow Broads (and Brudes) was mixed with uncertainty. And it wasn't just Hurricane Isabel we were worried about. After all, you know what kind of nut jobs hang out on fan Web sites. Was Marie in fact a 75-year-old man with an eye-patch and a fetish for Broads? Is Melissa's calico cat really the only sociopath in her household? Is Katynka's fascination with Edward Gorey just a tad troubling? Is Tony less like Clay and more like that guy in Silence of the Lambs who collects skin? And what about Melissa's roommate, Charlie? We all felt pretty sure we knew each other from the Purple Pages, but what about Charlie? He could be an axe murderer for all we knew.

Thus it was with a mixture of joy and trepidation that we all met at the airport, checking each other out like characters in the first chapter of an Agatha Christie novel. Yes, there are metal detectors in airports, but no lye detectors.

We took off in three cars, with Melissa and Charlie leading us to their house. Or so we hoped. The first warning signals went off when we followed them into the empty parking lot of a vacant hotel. When we questioned them about the isolated location where no one would hear our screams, they said they had simply gotten turned around. They led us back toward civilization, but one couldn't help but worry.

Fears increased when we neared their home and saw this sign

and this sign

and this convenient field of dead corn, where one could easily hide corpses or scatter their pieces in a ritualistic offering to the Corn God.

We arrived at their house and entered with caution, greeted by an hysterical hound and a hissing cat filled with senseless and random hatred. We were also a little taken aback by the wall art, especially when Charlie (the possibly murderous Charlie) offered to take it down to show us.

Were those really "rust " stains dripping from the blade?

But then someone slipped in Tony's DVD and the magical power of Clay Love surrounded us. We laughed, we cried, we peed our pants a little. We were ready to head to Atlantic City. But was Atlantic City ready for us?

THE PRE-SHOW

Walking up to Boardwalk Hall, we were approached by several women who asked us if we were Clay fans. Apparently our lack of satin, sequins and rhinestones revealed our purpose in attending the beauty, oops, I mean, scholarship pageant.

We identified ourselves as Lecherous Broads. This proclamation was met with audible gasps, and we knew it was only a matter of time before people began swarming us and asking for autographs. We haughtily swaggered to the security gate, confident in our own superiority.

Fortunately, security at the Miss America Mess was an illusion. We were greeted first by a lurching zombie who opened our purses and bags and pretended to look inside for contraband or weapons. She muttered a monotone, "Enjoy the show," and sent us on to Jimmy the Security Guard and his Giant Wand. While Jimmy was having his way with us with his Giant Wand, the metal detector started beeping. We told him we had change in our pockets, certainly not digital cameras! He bought our pathetic excuse since we were in Atlantic City and unless you want to fork over 15 bucks to play cards, you�re destined to be walking around with pocketfuls of change from the lame slots that take up 95% of every casino in town.

We waltzed jauntily into Boardwalk Hall, and our jaws collectively hit the ground. We began grabbing each other and pointing as our peepers observed one hideous spectacle after another. Kat began taking pictures of the little JonBenet clones, with their miniature "Tiny Miss Tender and Precious" sashes, crowns and inches of makeup caked on their faces. These demented displays of foreshadowing were juxtaposed with the image of women past their prime squeezed into too-tight lavender moire taffeta prom dresses, hoping against hope for one last chance to walk the MzA runway. We were so excited about seeing this kind of dysfunction, we nearly squealed! We think we saw Tony skipping over to the t-shirt counter, but we can neither confirm nor deny those allegations.

Clay may have been the highlight of the pageant, but the highlight of the evening was definitely the lobby. That place was a veritable circus. Ice sculptures honoring the rich heritage and tradition of objectifying women under the guise of scholarship stood next to huge displays of cheesecakes of every possible flavor.

Stands where one could buy candy, chocolate covered pretzels and trail mix by the pound faced neon concession counters where debutantes in silk ball gowns waited in line to order foot longs with extra relish and ketchup. You haven�t lived until you�ve seen a group of beauty pageant contestants standing around scarfing down hot dogs and drinking Big Gulps in the lobby of Boardwalk Hall.

We eventually entered the arena itself and found our seats. In the very last row, high above it all.

THERE HE IS....MR. AMERICA

We made it through the beginning of the pageant, the trotting out of the contestants, and the seemingly endless Tom Bergeron monologue�when would this crazy plan pay off, we began to fret � when would the man who was the whole reason behind this road trip of insanity finally show his freckled face?

Then all of a sudden, we saw the silhouette in the center of the stage. There was pageant action going on up front, and no one seemed to notice the lone figure standing there, waiting for his cue; for one minute the focus off of him, the cameras concentrating on others. Time started moving in slow motion as all at once, the five of us came to the realization of just who that shadow might be. By the time we got to the third scream of �Is It Him???� we had our confirmation�...

Bendy Ankles.

The guttural moans, shrieks and screams started at the first bend, and the second he opened his mouth, we collectively lost it. Anyone taking a snapshot of us would have seen a surreal sight ~ rows upon rows of politely listening and applauding, tiara-ed and ball gown-ed pageant goers, and there in the very last row...5 stomping, shouting, jumping, slightly dishevelled, hyperventilating maniacs, each holding aloft a cell phone with more shrieks emanating from it.

And this was all before the mic rip. It all spirals downhill from there, into a territory where for one brief moment in time, it was normal to scream until you tasted blood, and to think that by shouting Clay!! Up here!!! we honestly might get some eye contact.

It was around this point we began to notice the staring. And the nudging and pointing (mind you, this was from people who were keeping score at the Miss America pageant). Can you imagine the horror of being ridiculed by people that bring their own elaborately homemade scoring sheets to the Miss America Pageant?

THE PERFORMANCE

The best part of the show leading up to Clay�s performance was sharing it with other Broads. Before the show started, we were frantically calling Broads to gather the necessary phone numbers for Clay�s performance. Marie called Robin to get Nelle�s number. Robin didn�t have it, so Kat called Erin. Erin had Nelle�s number. At one point, Kat passed the phone around Marie so that Erin could talk to Tony. The first thing Tony heard was �OMG, Tony! How are you?!� She didn�t know Tony�s ego needed no further boost.

By showtime, Marie called Kelly, Melissa called Robin Kat called Erin, and Tony called Nelle. We thought Clay would perform at the beginning of the show, but had to sit through 51 contestant introductions and the typical monologue. There was frantic �I think he�s going to sing now� being said into the phone for nearly 30 minutes. We chatted with the phone Broads during the TV commercial breaks, filling time, and providing the requisite commentary on the proceedings leading up to the Main Event.

Finally, during a commercial break, a man walked onto the stage and stood in the dark. Shortly before the commercial break ended, the spotlight flashed onto the lone figure. That�s when we saw Bendy Ankles. Definite bendy ankles.

Clay�s voice was excellent and he's definitely showing his stage presence. The jersey clutch he did during the AI tour drove the crowd crazy, but when he grabbed the microphone off of its stand during his performance, Melissa, Kat, and Marie visibly swooned.

It was even more impressive in person than on TV. He's definitely found a new tactic for getting the crowd into the performance. After watching the tape after getting home, the crowd noise and chaos didn't show through on TV.

THE AFTERMATH

Walking out of the Trump casino was a great relief from the previous smoke infested gambling nightmare. It was only a couple of moments before the true nightmare would begin.

As we shuffled down the hallway towards the elevators it became apparent that we were not the only people trying to escape. What seemed to be an easy ride on the elevator turned sour. Kat, Melissa, and Marie pushed their way into the open elevator door along with what seemed to be about a million other people.

Stranded like two lost dogs, Tony and Charlie were left standing on the outside looking in. We were on the second floor, but parked on ninth floor. The peach floor. If it could have only been the pink floor, only one small floor below us.

Waiting by the elevator on the ninth floor anticipating the arrival of the three missing Broads proved to be useless. The elevator doors opened and out came little pageant queens wearing red tiaras and gowns. This was not the three missing Broads. Charlie stood there bent over the railing looking puzzled while trying to catch his breath from the death walk up the stairs. They should put warnings at the bottom of the stairs that say "do not walk more than two flights of stairs if you have smoked more than one pack of cigarettes in the last twelve hours". By this point we realized that the missing Broads must be at the car, which was set to depart from the twenty dollar parking space.

The drive from the parking garage to Wawa seemed like an eternity. Charlie sat in the back seat making sure that everyone�s peepers were peeled. There would be no sleeping on the way home. Melissa's sleep-deprived hallucinations of deer frolicking by the side of the road made her quickly rethink her ability to drive, and it was time for a caffeine stop.

Charlie should have known that after his hallucination of coffee lids falling to the ground that he was just as bad off as Melissa; however, the journey home continued with Charlie as the driver and Melissa now fast asleep in the back seat.

Finally, the familiar vision of the Delaware Memorial Bridge appeared on the horizon, like a beacon of light shining from the heavens. From this point Charlie knew that there was still yet another hour or so drive to get home. His inability to drive the car became apparent when he wildly swerved to miss what he saw as an airplane driving next to him.

Somehow, and luckily, all ends well with the Broads, Brude, and New Brude Charlie arriving safely at home.

IN CONCLUSION...

Even as we were meeting for the first time, it was amazing how familiar things seemed. For example, Tony's neck is just like Clay's neck, right down to the Double AA and the shell necklace.

And Melissa's cat Jason (not the hate-filled one) looks so much like Odin that he's thinking of becoming an Idol Odin Impersonator.

Of course, not everything that seemed the same on the surface really was the same. For example, this Moment

bore absolutely no resemblance to this Moment

(We're happy to report that any little crush Mr. Polka Dot may have had was surely crushed by that truly horrific performance.)

DON'T WALK BEHIND ME, I MAY NOT LEAD. DON'T WALK IN FRONT OF ME, I MAY NOT FOLLOW. JUST WALK BESIDE ME AND BE MY FRIEND.

-Albert Camus

/center>

As we strolled the Boardwalk in Atlantic City, we were overwhelmed, not by the Parade of Hairsprayed Bouffants, but by the intensity and magnitude of the bond we all felt so instantly that weekend. Five people, connected by the phone lines of their computers, the magical voice and spirit of a boy from Raleigh, and the knowledge that we would be friends for the rest of our lives.

-Kat, Marie, Melissa, Tony and Charlie

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